green lies, black hearts

XLI

love, i have wounds

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a/n - apologies y'all on the delay, hopefully an almost 15k word chapter makes up for it!! a lot is happening in my life and my country rn, so I do truly truly apologize. sometimes I get stuck on a pov and I just have to step away for a bit until I can conquer the writer's block!!

happy pride month from your fav gay and trans author who writes a staggering amount of m/f LMAOOO! and it's my birthday this month! so exciting :) I hope y'all enjoy :) thank you so much for reading and commenting and always supporting. I love writing this fic, and I love interacting with y'all! apologies as always for any mistakes (I usually write at like 3am because that's when the writing demons are loudest lol), and I hope y'all enjoy!! This is a long one, and darker chapter.

Pls note there is physical abuse by men towards shaera (not by aemond save for a short moment at the end!!)

- mint

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Jacaerys

Jacaerys stood atop a cliff, his cloak whipping furiously behind him as brine blew up from the sea and blasted his face. One couldn't see Rook's Rest from Dragonstone, but that didn't mean Jace wouldn't try. So, he stood at the highest point he could, and he cared not for the cold wind, nor the trills of dragons nesting in the caves of the mont, nor the itch that crawled from the base of his spin and nestled just beneath his ear. He did not relieve the itch. He didn't move from where he stood, one hand curled over the pommel of his sword, and fingers twitching every so often as he kept waiting.

"Come on, Shae," he would mutter, gnashing his teeth together to keep from shivering.

He kicked at the dirt, twisting his ankle back and forth, and he crushed a rock into pieces.

"You did not say farewell to your sister," his mother said as she walked into the family library.

Jace sighed, and he fiddled with the coin some more, spinning it over and over again to see where it landed. Crown. Every time. Never dragon.

He would not admit to the boding feeling that welled up in his throat. Especially not to his mother on the cusp of a scolding he knew he well deserved. And he knew it would do nothing but increases the stress his mother endured, what with her twisting her rings over and over again as she crossed the stone floors with a frown skewing her lips.

"She will return soon enough," he gave the weak excuse, slapping his hand on the table and trapping the coin finally. The crown pressed into his palm. "Hardly a need to say goodbye for such an excursion."

"Hmm."

He knew she wasn't convinced, and neither were his grandmother, father, and sister based on their desperation to take three entire dragons to a keep such as Rook's Rest. But, he did not push it any further.

"Have you seen Baela?" he asked instead.

"She's still attending to Rhaenys," his mother said, moving to stand before the skull of Meraxes. "Your grandmother will take to flight with Meleys once Shaera and Laenor are close to Rook's Rest."

Jace nodded, slowly pushing away from the table, and he approached his mother with careful and quiet steps, unsure if he would spook her. She stood as still as a statue. An image of Targaryen excellence, in his eyes. If Jace could be half of the person his mother was, he would be happy, and perhaps a good king.